


your scars, they tell me a story

by Kyra_Bane



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge [5]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Boys In Love, Just clarifying, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, True Love, feelings galore, i know we all know that, they're just really into each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26222131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyra_Bane/pseuds/Kyra_Bane
Summary: Nicky counts himself lucky that he knows the story behind every one of the scars on his beloved's skin. They count the thousands of hours they never knew each other, the millions of minutes all leading to this. Here. Now.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894534
Comments: 12
Kudos: 162





	your scars, they tell me a story

**Author's Note:**

> prompt was: scar worship (30 day OTP challenge day 5) - I'm kind of not on the right day anymore (I started a longer fic/crossover with Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and uh everyone should read it because I am e x c i t e d about it) but I'm going to keep going. Mostly because I think this relationship – and in fact every relationship in that film – involve some of the best story telling I've seen in years.
> 
> Also because they're super cute and in love. 💕

Nicky counts himself lucky that he knows the story behind every one of the scars on his beloved's skin. He catalogues them with his eyes, his fingers, his mouth.

He has Joe tied to the bed, in another safe house, this one somewhere south of São Paulo. They've no reason to be there, except they want to be, except Nile wanted to see Brazil and so Andy brought her here and Nicky and Joe are doing their best, right now, to remain nearby.

They're still taking time for themselves, of course.

Hence: Joe. Tied to the bed. The knots are ones Nicky has perfected, ones that Joe can loosen if he needs to. Not that he ever does. Not that Nicky cannot read every line of Joe's body, every imperceptible twitch of movement. 

He likes the added reassurance. Joe likes the way he worries, sometimes. 

They are both still wearing their underwear, even though there can be no doubt about where the – evening? No, afternoon – is going. Nicky smooths his hands over Joe's chest, traces his sides.

There's one there, on the left side of his ribs. It's a few centimetres long, thin, long-since faded but still somewhat raised to the touch. 

"I was quick as a boy, but sometimes not quick enough," Joe had said lazily, the day in Florence that he'd told Nicky about it for the first time. Sunlight had streamed through the window and Joe had rolled them over and told Nicky about training from being a small boy, about feeling like his saif was an extension of his arm.

Nicky dips his head, nips over the scar and Joe groans, quiet, in the back of his throat. There's a thin sheen of sweat on his skin and Nicky isn't sure if it's from the heat or the way his thumb is rubbing over his beloved's hip, holding him steady with a feather-light touch.

Another scar rests there, under his thumb, another training accident, healed years before they even met. Nicky dips his fingers below the fabric of Joe's boxers to rub over it and Joe strains against the rope, just for a second, before he relaxes again. Nicky looks up at him. Joe looks back. They're both laid bare for the other and when Nicky smiles, a small twitch of his lips, Joe throws his head back and laughs.

The sound warms Nicky to the core, encourages his exploration and so he licks over the scar on the inside Joe's left bicep – "A fall, amore mio." – then leans up and latches onto the burn mark on Joe's right wrist. He bites down here, though not hard, and Joe pants against his throat, straining to see. 

"Nicolò," he says, voice warm and rich and _wanting_ but Nicky doesn't want to indulge too early. He rubs his foot against the scar he knows is on Joe's calf ("Gravity won that battle, habibi.") and sucks a path down Joe's neck, red marks fading away as soon as they appear.

Every scar he can document is a testament to those first thirty-three years of his beloved's life, thousands of hours where they never knew each other, millions of minutes bringing them closer together, closer to _this._

He closes his lips around one of Joe's nipples, just to hear the whimper it elicits, bites to hear a gasp and flicks his tongue out to soothe again. 

The scars he cannot see weave the tapestry of his heart's life since, the life they have shared even when apart. He moves lower, nuzzles at Joe's stomach. He knows exactly where he thrust his sword. He knows where Yusuf's dagger met him, too. They both killed each other so painfully and Nicky wonders if they had to suffer for their love to burn this brightly.

Joe makes a strangled noise and he looks up, torn from his sudden reverie. His beloved's eyes are shining like he knows exactly what Nicky is thinking and Nicky holds his gaze as he kisses the spot.

"You're going to kill me," Joe says, voice rough but tinged with humour, and Nicky wonders, for a second, how Joe sees their love. He knows, but still he wonders – Nicky blankets it in remnants of his old life, even now, thinking of the time after as time spent in penance, in understanding that what he thought of as unnatural was not only not that, but also fragile and beautiful and _worthy_. 

"Yusuf," he says and his head is resting on Joe's hip. "Ti amo." They say it for the luxury of it, the feel of it, but sometimes Nicky says it for want of anything else, to try and wrangle the wave of feeling that crashes against him when Joe looks at him with soft eyes.

"I love you, too," Joe says, "But I might have to reconsider if you do not _touch me_ in the next minute." The last part comes out strangled and Nicky turns his face against Joe's skin to laugh, sliding a hand up Joe's thigh when he laughs, too.

They kiss again and though Nicky tries to keep it languid, Joe has other plans and, well, he's always been skilled with his tongue. Nicky tears himself away only to press rough kisses down his throat, tracing that same path back down with more purpose now. He tugs Joe's boxers down with one hand, Joe lifting his hips helpfully, and when the fabric is cast aside, Nicky pushes his face against Joe's hip, licks a path across to his cock. 

He licks along his length and Joe pulls against the ropes, a string of broken curses falling from his lips. Nicky hums against him, trying to take his time, but now that they're here, his own arousal is hard to ignore and when he takes Joe's cock in his mouth, is surrounded by the warmth and scent of him, he closes his eyes for a moment, trying to bring himself back under control.

Joe pushes his hips up and Nicky swallows, eyes open again as he fixes his gaze on his beloved's face. In spite of whatever he thought as a much younger man, in spite of all the jokes and stereotypes he has heard, has had thrown at him, he sees this act as nothing less than a demonstration of his complete and utter devotion. Nothing less than evidence of the trust his beloved has shown in handing over his heart because the way that Joe looks at him– It's like he sees a revelation, every time.

Something pricks at the back of his eyes and Nicky pulls off, gasping in a breath. He strokes Joe almost roughly, to see him squirm and when Joe throws his head back to pant up at the ceiling, Nicky bites where his neck meets his shoulder.

"I want you to fuck me," Joe says, tipping his head so that his lips are at Nicky's ear. "Nicolò, sweet Nicolò, please..." 

Nicky licks his lips, meets Joe's in a bruising kiss and then he's letting go, tearing off his briefs, reaching for the lube they dropped on the floor when Joe pulled Nicky onto the bed.

Joe waits more patiently now, like the fire in him is banked by the sight of Nicky slicking up his fingers, nudging apart Joe's legs. He lets out a deep exhale when Nicky breaches him with the first finger but keeps his attention fixed on Nicky's every move. Nicky pumps one finger in and out slowly a few times before adding another and it isn't difficult to find Joe's prostate, not after all this time. Joe moans when he brushes against it and Nicky adds a third finger on the next stroke, thrusting in until Joe is almost incoherent with it, though still watching.

"I'm ready," he breathes out, all in a rush and Nicky nods, withdraws his fingers and leans up for another kiss. Joe is needy and frantic against him – as if Nicky ever _isn't_ , deep down – and Nicky lines himself up, pushes in in one smooth stroke.

He pauses for a moment, kissing along Joe's arm, his shoulder, anywhere he can reach, until Joe pushes back against him, legs coming to wrap around Nicky's waist. Nicky growls and Joe tilts his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. There is nothing Nicky can do but move, pulling almost all the way out before he thrusts inside again and Joe meets him beat for beat, their bodies moving together in a way they've done for centuries.

It still lights sparks along Nicky's nerves and when he tilts his hips, hits Joe's prostate, Joe still lets out a shocked huff of air, a moan that Nicky knows will make it through the thin walls to the apartment next door. It has been centuries, for certain, but that does not mean there's no novelty to it. Joe sucks on Nicky's earlobe and Nicky reaches between them, a curl of satisfaction in his chest when Joe stutters out his next breath, presses open-mouthed kisses to Nicky sweat-slick skin.

"Are you close?" Nicky asks, in the Genoese-Arabic dialect they have weaved together. The one that's only for them.

Joe nods and his hands are really flexing against the rope now; Nicky knows he wants to touch but he hasn't let himself out yet and hasn't asked, either. Nicky tightens his grip, strokes faster as he thrusts in harder, as deep as he can go. Joe whines as he gets closer and Nicky kisses him, both trading their pleasure, their desperation for each other, and then Joe comes, moaning against Nicky's lips. 

Nicky strokes him through it, milking out every last drop and when Joe lets out a breathy laugh, throws his head back again, Nicky lets go. He's still hard, still inside him, but he can wait, happy to watch the way Joe's chest heaves from the exertion. 

Joe frees his hands and then he's rolling them over, reaching back to where they're still connected, running his fingers around the base of Nicky's cock. Nicky reaches up but Joe grabs his wrists, pushes his hands back into the pillows beneath his head. Nicky thrusts up involuntarily. 

"Joe," he says and he would regret his teasing if he had been teasing. If he had anything to regret.

"No torture, hayati," Joe says. "Just relax. You've been putting in all the work today."

Nicky snorts a laugh but then Joe moves and _oh_ , his hips are sinful. Nicky grabs at his thighs, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises that will last only seconds. He's on the precipice and Joe reaches up, tugs his hair just right and Nicky cries out, thrusting up hard as pleasure burns through him, as he comes hard enough to see stars.

Joe watches him with fond eyes, with desire, and then he climbs off, collapsing on his front beside Nicky. Nicky manages to get his limbs working, lets his hand flop onto Joe's shoulder. Joe laughs, though it's muffled by the bedspread.

"You're good at that," Nicky says and Joe's eyes are bright with mirth when he lifts his head.

"I'm sure I have room for improvement," he replies. He edges closer, throws one leg over Nicky's hip and his arm around his waist. Nicky sighs when Joe kisses his neck, settles in beside him with a satisfied grumble in his chest.

"Well, we have time to practise." 

Joe snorts and as his beloved's breathing evens out, Nicky smiles. They should clean up still, should shower and change the sheets, but he can't bring himself to move.

There's time for all that. So much time.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments always much appreciated!


End file.
